How You Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm?
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Entry for NFA Teammate Hurt Challenge. It takes place on a farm. Tim-centric, as usual. Already complete. Six chapters.
1. This Is the Barn

**A/N:** This is my entry for the NFA Teammate Hurt Challenge. It takes place...guess where...on a farm. I grew up on a farm and I have fond memories of working there. However, I'm aware that many people have not had that wonderful experience and the harrows (when they appear) may not have any significance to anyone's mind. What I suggest is that you do a nice little Google search for old drag harrows (_not_ disc harrows). Otherwise, just sit back an enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS. I'm poor. Enough said.

* * *

**How You Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm?**

by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1: This Is the Barn**

The morning had started quietly enough. It was a lazy summer day, that brief lull between frantic spring planting and equally frantic cutting. The only happening on this farm was that the crops were growing. Except for the telephone wires and the occasional car on the road, the farm (barn and all) was indistinguishable from its 19th-century counterparts.

Then...the stillness was broken by a truck speeding up the dirt road. It pulled into the yard and three men jumped out. They looked back over their shoulders and saw another car bouncing and clattering its way over the washboard to the isolated location. No time to run to the trees. They'd have to make their stand here...but under cover. The barn was a welcome choice. The three men ran and pulled the barn doors closed after them. Then, by mutual agreement they hid themselves in separate locations within the barn. They wouldn't go down without a fight.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The sedan pulled up a few minutes later, again disturbing the usual quiet calm of the farm. Four people jumped out, drawing their guns and approaching the barn...the only possible location...with extreme caution. As they reached it, the man in the lead gestured for the others to take up different locations. They scattered silently.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Everyone in position?" Gibbs whispered.

"Ready, Boss," Tony said.

"Ready," Ziva reported.

"McGee?" Gibbs whispered.

There was no response.

"McGee!"

Tim's voice came over the radio, breathless. "Sorry, Boss. I had to get around some...stuff. I'm ready."

"On my count. David, DiNozzo, take the side doors. McGee, watch the loft."

Tim looked around at their location. He'd never been on a farm before. Running through the fields didn't seem so special when it was capped by a takedown of a few murderers. He had managed to hide his surprise that there were farms so close to DC, but he just didn't think about it.

"What do you think will be in the barn?" Tony said. "It could be like on _Twister_..."

"Shut up, DiNozzo!"

Tim swallowed hard. These confrontations still made him a little nervous, although he'd never admit it.

"On three."

Tim drew his gun and focused on the door in front of him.

"One...two..._three_!"

Simultaneously, the four doors opened.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" Gibbs yelled. His command was echoed by Tony, Ziva and Tim.

Tim took a moment to look around at the interior of the barn. It wasn't as though he'd never seen one before, but not for years and certainly not in this context. It was quintessentially a barn. There was a hayloft...full of hay. Big surprise. Work benches covered with tools...and bird droppings. A couple of stalls, perhaps once used for horses, now vacant. And beneath the loft, old worn-out farm machinery, all as incomprehensible to Tim as computers were to Gibbs. Then, the bullets started to fly and Tim had no more time to spend taking in their location. His attention was all for finding the three men they'd been chasing.

"One above you, McGee!" Tony shouted and then dove behind the work bench to avoid the bullets being fired at him.

"Got him!" Tim shouted back and clambered up the ladder. The hayloft didn't have as much hay as he had thought, although it certainly covered the floor. The rest of the space was given over to...junk: rusty rolls of barbed wire, buckets of...stuff. There was one man there, looking down at the scene below, effectively pinning Tony and Ziva both with his gunfire.

"Drop your gun! Drop it!" Tim ordered as he reached the top. He took the man by surprise and he turned toward Tim, his hands in the air.

"Okay, okay!" The man began to lower his gun.

"Over here," Tim said. There was enough hay up here that he was sure that the gun would disappear if the guy just dropped it.

"Right." The man looked as though he was going to docilely follow Tim's instructions, but then, at the last possible moment, he suddenly changed from a gentle toss to an overarm throw, right at Tim's face. Tim ducked, his gun still in his hand. He felt it buck as he reflexively pulled the trigger. Before he could do more than that, something else was flying at him. He had time to register the huge roll of barbed wire before it hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him...and knocking him back and through the chute in the corner (which he had not noticed before), out of the loft... and down onto the harrows below. It seemed to happen in slow motion, and Tim couldn't even shout because he was having trouble breathing. Thankfully, he hit his head first and blacked out before the rest of him made contact with the old farm equipment. No one would see him unless they knew he was there. Which they didn't.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony was still ducked behind the work bench. The bullets from above had stopped, but he couldn't get a clear shot at the guys on the ground.

"Ziva! Little help?"

There was no reply, but suddenly all the bullets stopped. He stood up slowly, checking to make sure that..._yep, he's not going anywhere_. Ziva had him on the ground. Gibbs had the other one in cuffs. Tony started to look around for Tim and saw someone jumping out of the loft window. "We've got a runner!" He gave chase, noting with interest that the man didn't appear to be armed. _How did he get away from McGee, then?_ Then, he didn't have time to wonder because the runner suddenly tripped and fell on his face. When Tony reached him, he laughed.

"Taken down by a hole in the ground," he said as he came up on the man. Quickly, he cuffed him, relieved that there had been so little danger this time around. He dragged the man to his feet and pulled him, protesting, back to the barn.

"Boss, I don't think we're going to have enough room for all these guys," Tony commented as he reached the front of the barn. Then, he did a quick head count. "Hey...where's McGee?"

"He is not with you?" Ziva asked in surprise, looking around as if she expected him to materialize out of thin air. "This man was from the loft, yes?"

"Yeah. I didn't see him, but then, I was chasing our clumsy friend here," Tony said, giving a shake to the suspect who had become strangely mute.

Gibbs, holding the third suspect, shouted back into the barn. "McGee!"

The lack of response was slightly worrying, and Gibbs shoved his prisoner toward Tony and Ziva.

"Got him, Boss," Tony said and looked at the men. "Don't even think about running. I'm not above shooting to kill."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs looked around the barn. "McGee!" More worried, he headed to the loft and climbed up the ladder. At the top, he saw no one, but he saw Tim's gun on the ground, nearly lost in the hay, the rusty roll of barbed wire lying in the middle of the loft and the stirred up hay over in the corner. Slowly, he approached the back of the loft and was surprised to find the open chute. He looked down.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Man, it feels good to get you guys. This ought to be worth an early day, don't you think, Ziva?"

Ziva grinned in response, but before she could answer, they heard a concerned shout from the barn.

"Call an ambulance!"


	2. The Purple Cow

**Chapter 2: The Purple Cow**

Time stopped for Gibbs as he stared down at his agent, lying unconscious about twenty feet below him. It was a sight he'd never seen before and hoped he'd never have to see again. Perhaps it was a blessing that Tim was unconscious (he refused to believe that Tim was dead), based on his current position. The harrows were old and rusty. They probably hadn't been used in years, perhaps decades...centuries...like the rest of the old machinery surrounding them. The harrows themselves were in a tangled mess meaning that first of all, each individual harrow was pointing a different direction, and second of all, that Tim had not landed on either a smooth unbroken surface nor a larger version of a bed of nails. He tried to ascertain just how badly Tim was injured, but he just wasn't close enough. He couldn't jump down. There wasn't enough space and he'd surely land right on Tim...which probably wouldn't help matters.

At first, Gibbs was afraid that they'd have to either hoist Tim back up to the loft or move all the old machinery in order to get him out. It would take valuable time and jostle him more than he should be. Then, he saw the old boarded-up window above Tim's head. He was about to turn to get to it when he saw Tim's eyes start to open. So much for him remaining unconscious...but it was at least confirmation that he was alive. Gibbs knelt over the chute so that Tim could see him there. Tim's eyes fluttered open, sagged closed and then opened again and stayed that way. He looked up...because that's the direction his eyes were facing already. Gibbs could tell the very moment in which Tim's mind and body caught up with the situation. He didn't speak, but he started to suck breaths in noisily through his clenched teeth, his vocal cords vibrating uncontrollably, and even from his current location, Gibbs could see his body shaking with the pain.

"McGee, can you hear me?"

Tim's eyes shifted slightly to Gibbs' face, but he still didn't speak, his breath coming more and more quickly as the pain increased with his increased awareness.

"We're going to get you out of there, okay, McGee?"

Tim still didn't speak. He just kept his eyes on Gibbs, the pain, the pleading in them was hard to see. Gibbs found himself comparing the expression to a time when Kelly had broken her arm. She had looked at him the same way: begging for him to take the pain away. The inadvertent comparison tore at his heart.

Gibbs stared at him for a few more seconds and then said, "McGee, I'm going to get down to you, but I have to get out of the loft, got it?"

Tim still didn't speak, but his eyes now held fear, in addition to pain.

"I'll only be out of sight for a minute or two. I'm not leaving. Okay?"

Slowly, Tim nodded once.

"Try not to move."

Another slow nod. Then, Gibbs forced himself to leave the chute, but he could still hear, faintly, the pained gasps coming from down below. As he climbed back down the ladder, he saw Tony come running into the barn.

"What is it, Boss?"

Gibbs forced himself to think briefly of the three suspects they had just collared. "Is Ziva watching all three now?"

"Local police just showed up. Ziva's briefing them and they'll take temporary custody. Where's McGee?"

Gibbs pointed to the tangle of machinery beneath the loft.

"How did you–?"

Gibbs interrupted. There was no time for this. "There's a chute in the back corner of the loft. Go up there and talk to McGee."

"How are we getting to him?"

Gibbs again pointed, this time to the old window. "Go, DiNozzo!" he ordered when Tony didn't immediately start moving.

"Yes, Boss!" Tony ran to the ladder and seemed to fly up it in his haste.

Gibbs ran out of the shed, pausing only to grab a crowbar and thank whatever it was that made farmers such packrats.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim could barely think through the pain he felt. He wished that he could pass out again, but for whatever reason, his body was not listening to his pleadings. He couldn't see much, just the chute through which he had fallen. He wanted desperately to get away from the rack, but Gibbs had told him not to move. He struggled not to scream and his entire body shook with the effort at not expressing the pain. He was in agony...and he was alone.

"McGee? Oh, no..." Tony's head appeared in the chute. He looked horrified. Tim figured he must look pretty bad. "McGee..."

Tim forced a single word through his lips. It came out as a strangled cry. "Help!"

"Gibbs is will be there soon, McGee. Just..." Tony trailed off, not knowing what to tell Tim to do.

Tim felt a tear trickle down his cheek...at least he thought it was a tear. There was a sudden noise behind and above him, the sound of wood being wrenched away. It startled Tim and he jumped just a little. That slight movement was enough to tear an agonized scream from his lips. His eyes closed in protest as pain surged through every inch of him, although he could pinpoint the origins to a few locations scattered around his body. Then, seemingly in no time at all, someone was holding his hand. He squeezed it tightly as each ripple of pain agonized him anew.

"The ambulance will be here soon, McGee."

"Boss." The word was a sob. He started to open his eyes, but then he felt Gibbs' other hand covering them.

"Keep your eyes closed, McGee."

Something about the way he said the words frightened Tim and his eyes opened all the way, but Gibbs' hand was still there. He couldn't see anything.

"Close your eyes, Tim."

"Boss?"

"Trust me, Tim. Close your eyes." Then, Gibbs raised his voice and shouted, "Ziva, window on the south side!"

Tim jumped at the increase in volume, wringing another scream from his throat.

"Gibbs...what..." Ziva's voice trailed away, much like Tony's had and Tim felt even more afraid. Whatever Ziva saw had made even the Mossad officer speechless.

"Boss?" Tim asked.

"You're going to be fine, Tim. Just keep your eyes closed."

Finally, Tim did as he said, trusting Gibbs and knowing that it was harder to keep them open anyway. He felt Gibbs' hand move away from his face, although he still kept his grip on Tim's hand. There was a slight tugging as Gibbs shifted away, but Tim didn't let go.

"Gibbs..." Ziva began.

Whatever Gibbs said...or did...Tim didn't know, but suddenly, his hand was gone, slipped out of Tim's grasp. In moments, Ziva's hand took his place.

"Ziva?" he gasped out.

"Yes, McGee. Just stay still. We are merely waiting for the ambulance." Something sounded very artificial in her voice, but Tim wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. He just kept his eyes closed and his hand holding Ziva's, whimpers escaping his lips as waves of pain continued to crash over him.

"Hurts..."

"I know. You will be fine. Just hold my hand. You may squeeze it as tightly as you wish."

Tim took her at her word and tightened his grip.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You don't understand what you're dealing with," Gibbs said. "He fell on the _harrows_, not the ground, not a hay bale, not _nails_... _harrows_! You can't move that entire piece of equipment in an ambulance."

The EMT tried to explain the difficulty to Gibbs. "It is more dangerous to remove impaling objects when they've penetrated the torso. We have no way of knowing how much internal damage has been caused."

Gibbs knew they were right, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Tim where he was for much longer. "Can't you..." Suggestions were not forthcoming.

"There's a possibility that we could simply cut off the various...parts, but it will be a longer process and we'll have to find a cutter."

"Luckily, we're in a place that will probably have one," Gibbs noted.

"Okay, Agent Gibbs, we'll get ready. It's not going to be pleasant."

"Neither is his present situation," Gibbs said.

The EMT sighed and turned back to the ambulance while Gibbs returned to the barn. The sight of Tim's body shocked him again and he was amazed that Tim was even still alive, let alone conscious with the pain he must be feeling.

His eyes were screwed shut. His hand grasping Ziva's so tightly that her fingers were white, although she showed no inclination to loosen his grip. Tony was still staring from the loft above. He seemed so shocked that he couldn't move.

No fewer than six teeth of the harrows were sticking out of Tim's body. His left leg, already twisted at an awkward angle, had two, one in the thigh and one just below the knee. One stuck out of his right shoulder, another out of his left arm...and perhaps worst of all, one had penetrated his ribs and one his side. In addition, Gibbs had no way of knowing how many others might have penetrated without get all the way through. When the slightest movement caused Tim to shriek in pain, he hadn't been able to bear the thought of shifting him around at all to see what else there was. The miracle was that his head and neck both had missed the teeth.

Gibbs tried to feel relieved that at least the harrows hadn't simply been upside-down. If Tim had landed on them in that position, he would have died instantly...but the possibility of death still existed and he hated to see Tim in so much pain.


	3. And on That Farm

**Chapter 3: ...And on That Farm...**

"The cord's not long enough!"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Is there an extension cord?"

"That _is_ the extension cord!"

"Well, find another one! DiNozzo, get off your rear end and help us out. Is there another cord up there?"

"Let me check."

Tim heard the words and let them wash over him...along with the pain which was screaming a whole lot louder than everyone else. Ziva had made one attempt to leave, but he had only tightened his grip more. He didn't want to be left alone with his pain.

"What's...taking so long?" he whimpered, his eyes still closed.

"We just need to figure out the best way to remove you from the barn, McGee. Do not worry."

"Y-you sound... w-worried."

"But you need not."

Tim was beginning to shiver, which only added to his pain as the shivers shook his body. Then, there was another voice...unfamiliar to him.

"Agent McGee..." the man trailed off like Ziva and Tony both had and Tim was frightened once more. "My name is Brian. We're just going to get you out of here, all right?"

"Hurry."

"We're doing our best. Now, I'm going to hook you up to an IV and get an analgesia in you before we start moving you around. This is going to be a dumb question, but I have to ask. How are you feeling?"

Tim's laugh turned into a moan of pain. "Cold...hurts."

"I know. Okay..." Brian sounded a bit worried. "He's lucky he didn't snap his neck," he muttered. Tim swallowed. "I'm going to insert the IV; just keep your hand still."

"Found one!"

"Toss it down...or better yet, come down yourself."

There was a pause and then, "Thanks, Boss."

Tim smiled through the pain. Tony had obviously just been headslapped. A small prick in his hand, barely discernible through the rest of the pain he felt, indicated the successful insertion of the IV. Then, he heard Gibbs' voice, close by, but not right next to him.

"Here we go."

"Okay, we'll have to wait while I check...everything. I don't want to cut too close."

"Cut?" Tim asked and started to move, but that brought intense jabs of pain that forced him back down...as did Ziva's and Brian's arms.

"Not you, Agent McGee. You're...wedged. We need to cut some metal around you to get you out."

Tim was nearly hyperventilating, but the pain was decreasing just a little. "Wedged?"

"Yeah. You fell into some old farm equipment." For some reason, Tim thought it sounded like Brian was lying to him. "Now, I have to get around to some of the other stuff. Just...it's going to hurt, but it is necessary and try to stay as still as possible. Understand?"

"Yeah..." Tim didn't like the sound of _it's going to hurt_. Then, he shrieked as Brian lifted his right arm and then his back. His screams drowned out Brian's shocked gasp.

"Mike? You'd better get over here," Brian said.

Tim heard that and couldn't stand the mystery anymore. He opened his eyes and looked...over toward Brian's voice...but there was something in the way...something _sticking out of his shoulder_. He thought things couldn't get any worse, but he turned his head to look at Ziva and stopped halfway there as he saw more..._things_ sticking out of his chest. He began to hyperventilate in earnest and barely noticed when Ziva began to turn his head slowly toward her. His eyes did not move with the rest of him. They stayed fixed on the...the _spikes_ sticking out of his body.

"Look at me, McGee."

Tim didn't listen. The pain was still fading, but it wasn't gone completely...and he still had _spikes_ sticking out of him.

Ziva's face came in front of his eyes. "McGee, look at me."

Tim fixed his terrified eyes on her and let out a sob.

"You are going to be all right. They are getting ready to get you out."

"The-the-..." Tim couldn't seem to make any coherent sentence...not even a full word.

"You need to remain calm, McGee."

Tim didn't see how he could calm down. He'd been skewered! Multiple times! He was a...a human pin cushion! He screamed again as Brian was joined by the unseen Mike and they moved him again. Ziva cupped his face in her hands.

"McGee, I want you to look at me. Nowhere else. Understand? Just at me."

Tim panted and moaned.

"Understand, McGee?"

Tim nodded, more tears cutting a dirty path down his cheeks.

"Good. No matter what. Look at me. Do not look away."

Tim nodded again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Boss, do you think that..."

"He'll make it, Tony," Gibbs said abruptly. "That's what we're doing. We're making sure he survives. Now, do _you_ want to climb over that junk or do you want me to?"

Tony felt slightly embarrassed by how he'd acted up in the loft; so he took the cutter from Gibbs hands and began the slow, slightly dangerous climb over old discs, drills, more harrows and a whole host of other abandoned farm equipment. Twice, he got the cord caught on something that could possible cut it and he felt his heart in his throat as he carefully untangled it and continued. It took perhaps five minutes, but it seemed like five hours by the time he got to the horrific scene. Tim's eyes were open, terrified, pain-ridden, but he was staring at Ziva as if his life depended on it. Ziva did not look away.

"Tony, welcome," she said quietly.

Tony gulped and nodded in acknowledgment. There wasn't very much blood, which surprised him...small stains around...and _on_... each of the teeth, some on his head, but other than that, it was an amazingly bloodless scene...not that it helped. That was still Tim lying there. It was still Tim's body that had been perforated.

"Here's the cutter."

"Okay," Mike, the other EMT, took the cutter. Both the EMTs looked a bit nervous. He guessed that they'd never seen anything like this before. Neither had he. "I'll need you to help us keep the...pieces from falling once we cut him free. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Tony said and crawled over the last of the machinery to a miraculously bare patch of floor beside the harrows.

"Now, what we're going to do is cut away the bulk of the stuff here and then transfer him onto the stretcher there." He pointed to the emergency stretcher already positioned beside the harrows.

"Got it," Tony said and swallowed.

"No vomiting, please."

"I won't," Tony retorted.

Mike smiled a little nervously and turned on the cutter. The sound of the rotating blade filled the barn...but it couldn't drown out Tim's screams.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The vibrations felt like they were killing him. He wanted to writhe away from them. He wanted to get away. He wanted to be free of this pain, but Ziva's eyes were still there and he stared into them, even as he screamed from the pain. Then, he felt a tearing and he fell backward, his eyes rolling up in his head as he screamed again.

"I've got you, Probie," Tony's voice came very close to his ear. It didn't stop the pain, but it helped as the torturous vibrations continued.

"Look at me, McGee," Ziva said.

Tim forced his streaming eyes open and looked at her again. She was still there, her own eyes suspiciously wet. All the while, he felt Tony beside him, out of sight, but still there.

"Hang on, McGee," he heard Gibbs say over the growling motor. Sparks flew everywhere as the cutter connected with another metal bar.

Tim screamed again...and then, again. It felt as though it was taking forever...unending torment as slowly..._so very_ slowly, the bars were cut, one after another.

"Can't..." he screamed.

"You can," Ziva said, taking both his hands in hers and not even wincing as his fingers tightened to the point of cutting off her circulation. "It is almost over."

"No! Stop!" Tim pleaded. This was going to kill him. He couldn't bear it. Only the knowledge that Ziva and Tony and Gibbs were there with him kept him from wishing he was already dead.

Then...suddenly...it _was _over. The cutter was off and Tim's own harsh gasping cries were overly loud in the relative silence. Weak moans attended the shifting of Tim, plus the pieces of the harrows, to the stretcher, but he had no strength for anything more than that, as painful as it was still. He barely noticed as they passed him out of the window and into the ambulance. He was conscious of three things: Ziva's eyes still locked on his, Tony and Gibbs on either side of him...and the pain.

Ziva spoke to him but he was past the point of being able to understand her words. He just stared at her until they reached the ambulance and she was forced to stay behind. With the harrows, there just wasn't room for another person in the back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You will be okay, McGee," Ziva said as she let go of Tim's hands. He made no reaction as he was loaded into the ambulance.

Brian and Mike didn't spend any time trying to placate the three; they jumped in and drove away at top speed, sirens wailing.

"He _will_ be okay, yes?" Ziva asked, turning to Tony and Gibbs. Neither could answer her. They just stared after the ambulance for a few seconds and then ran to the car.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Agent McGee, this is a bumpy road. It's going to hurt a bit until we get to the main highway, but we'll try to keep you as stable as possible," Mike said.

Tim didn't react. He was lost in the pain.

"Go, Brian. We don't have a whole lot of time."

Brian turned the key and drove away. The first bump dragged another scream from Tim's lips and Mike winced in sympathy. They had strapped him in as well as they could, but there was just no way to keep him completely still while they drove on the dirt road. When they finally reached the highway, Tim was weeping softly, all his energy gone again.

"They're ready for him," Brian reported.

"I don't think anyone could be ready for this," Mike disagreed, looking at the man lying before him. No one could be ready to see the teeth penetrating Tim's back. No one could be ready to see the teeth that had been driven all the way through Tim's body and that were poking out of his chest and arms and legs. No one could be ready for that.


	4. There's a Hole in the Bucket

**Chapter 4: There's a Hole in the Bucket**

As Mike had predicted, no one was _really_ ready for Tim's appearance. True, they had experience with impalement, but generally, people in Tim's state were _dead_, not screaming in agony in spite of heavy doses of analgesics. Each tooth of the metal harrows was about an inch and a half square. The amount of damage that could have been done internally was more worrisome than the continued screaming as they rolled the gurney into the ER. Each small jolt of the heavy metal embedded in Tim's body was another current of pain...and another scream. A couple of the ER doctors actually looked a little green at the sight.

"Set up an X ray. Stat. We need to know where all these...spikes have gone, what they've done to him."

A nurse shown a light into Tim's eyes and noted the slight dilation. "He could also have a concussion," she reported quickly.

"We can't do anything until we know what we have. Let's get him to X ray." In moments, Tim was being rolled down the hall to another room. If he was lucky, the two teeth that had fully penetrated his torso would have missed vital organs. The fact that he was still alive boded well in that respect. If his heart, lungs or any other internal organ had been punctured, he'd likely be dead already. That didn't lessen the pain in any way and it didn't mean that this still wasn't deadly serious, but that meant there was more hope that Tim might just survive his injury.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The X rays were about as good as anyone could have hoped...and that meant only that Tim _might_ survive. In non-harrow related injuries, his left leg was broken in two places and he had a nasty knock on his head which, however, looked to be relatively non-serious. There was plenty of internal damage from the harrows themselves. The individual teeth were all rusted and certainly likely to cause infection. Besides the six teeth that had gone all the way through, there were another ten that had penetrated to a lesser degree. One had stopped just short of Tim's lungs. Another was lodged in his ribcage. One had been deflected away from his left lung by two ribs that had already been broken by the roll of barbed wire. Four were lodged in his legs and the remaining three were all in his right arm. The odds of there being no internal bleeding were slim to none...and of course, as soon as they started to remove them, they would have to control all the _external_ bleeding that would undoubtably start. Tim would turn into a terminally-leaky bucket if they didn't do this exactly right.

What made this even more difficult was the fact that they couldn't just clip off the spikes. They would have to use a cutter because they were much too thick for any manual tool. Harrows were used to loosen up soil, break up dirt clods, pull through tangles of weeds. They were constructed with strength and endurance in mind. They didn't bend easily. They weren't hollow. They were solid...all the way through. Solid and very heavy. It made them difficult to work with both on a farm and on the rare occasions when a set of harrows suddenly showed up in the ER.

There looked to be some damage to the tendons in his shoulder and there was a possibility that the tooth in his chest might have nicked his lung, but plugged the hole at the same time, preventing its immediate collapse. The teeth in his leg, arm and side all appeared to have gone straight through without causing extra damage...a minor blessing for which the doctors were all grateful.

Even so..."This is going to be messy," Dr. Stevens observed.

"What do you suggest?" Dr. Lee asked in a worried voice. He was only a second-year resident. This was way beyond his experience.

"Surgery...as soon as we can." He looked at the X rays again and sighed. "Someone needs to get us a cutter. We'll need a full team on this one. Let's go. If we're going to save this guy, we can't waste any time."

"Yes, sir."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One hour later..._

"Why hasn't anyone come out yet?" Abby asked. "Why haven't they told us anything?" She had been pacing the waiting room ever since she'd arrived. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva, who had actually seen Tim, were unsurprised by the lack of information. In fact, it was probably a _good_ thing that they didn't know yet. If someone came out this early, it would probably be to tell them that Tim had died.

"How did this happen?" she asked shrilly.

Gibbs realized that he couldn't sit silently anymore. Abby was on the verge of hysterics. He stood and pulled her into a tight hug. She wilted in his arms.

"What happened, Gibbs? What happened to Tim?"

"We're not sure yet. McGee was up in the loft. The rest of us were pinned down on the ground. All we know is that at some point he fell out of the loft and..." Unbidden, the image of Tim impaled on the harrows came into his head. It was awful. "...landed on some old machinery. It's bad, Abby. It's going to take awhile for them to get to us."

"Should we call his family?"

"Not yet. I'd like to be able to tell them something more than that their son has been injured and might die."

Abby whimpered and burrowed her head into his shoulder.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, ready?" Dr. Stevens asked. There was a team of four doctors and three nurses surrounding the surgery table on which Tim lay, unconscious finally. The old rusty harrow pieces were a blight on the otherwise sterile room.

"Ready as we'll ever be, I think, Jack," Alice said. She was the most experienced nurse there and had assisted on a number of surgeries with Dr. Stevens. They worked well together.

Dr. Stevens nodded and turned on the cutter. The first step was to cut away everything but the individual spikes. It would take up valuable time, but it was necessary in order to be able to deal with the more serious problems. Just before he bent over to cut the first spike away, he looked up at the nervous resident standing across from him and at the other doctors, all experienced in surgery, but a bit overwhelmed by the extremity of the injured man lying before them.

"My dad always wanted me to be farmer, you know. I think I'm glad I didn't listen to him."

The reluctant chuckles were drowned out as he began to cut the metal frame.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three hours later..._

A nurse walked into the waiting room and saw the group waiting for news on Tim and she tried to smile, but it was probably one of the hardest expressions to put on her face at this moment.

The group all stood and turned as she walked over.

"We've just finished cutting away all the harrow pieces," she said.

"What? You haven't even taken any out yet?" the younger man demanded.

"This is going to take all night," she said calmly. "We couldn't start removing the individual...spikes until we had managed to disconnect them from the metal frame. That way we can deal with them one and at a time and prevent any massive internal _or_ external bleeding." What she didn't say was that Tim had nearly died once during the cutting. They weren't sure what they'd be able to do if he went into V-fib. Defibrillation was risky with all the metal in his body. He had rallied, thankfully, but it had caused Dr. Stevens to work much more slowly.

"All night?" the older man asked. He seemed to be the one in charge.

"Yes, definitely."

"Can you tell us _anything_?" a woman dressed in Goth apparel asked plaintively.

"Nothing positive at the moment, except that he is still alive."

"What's the extent of the damage?" the older man asked.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Your agent..."

"Timothy McGee," the other woman corrected. "His name is Timothy McGee."

"...Timothy is in dire straits. All together, we have to remove sixteen of the spikes from his body. Only six penetrated completely, but the others have done quite enough damage on their own. The five in his torso, of course, have the most potential for damage. Four of them are near his lungs. The other is less serious. There is more than likely tendon and/or nerve damage in his shoulder. The remaining ten appear to be less serious as well. However, all of them could cause dangerous infection because of how dirty they are and the wounds will require immediate debridement upon removal. In addition, we have to watch for internal bleeding in each case. I cannot stress how dangerous this surgery is going to be. Your agent...Timothy could die. We will do our best to prevent that from happening, but it _is_ possible and you should be ready for that."

"He won't," the older man said firmly. "McGee won't die."

The nurse had seen this kind of reaction often enough that she didn't bother trying to correct him. She just gave her smile again. "We'll try to keep you updated if you're going to stay." The looks on everyone's faces told her what the answer to that was. "It won't be regularly, but when we have news, we'll let you know."

"Thank you," the younger man said. His face was very serious, but it looked as though it wasn't his usual state. Only something as terrible as this could change his normal expression.

"There's nothing we can do?" the Goth woman asked.

"Pray...that's all you can do. Wait, hope...and pray."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right. Let's see what we're dealing with," Dr. Stevens said. "How's he doing?"

The anesthesiologist nodded. "Still out...doing as well as can be expected."

"Which is not good at all." He had decided to remove the spikes around the lungs first. They were the worst, and it could be dangerous to do so, putting too much stress on a body already stretched to the breaking point, but it would also mean that the rest of the spikes would be less worrisome...and if they were going to succeed, they should know it right away.

"Here we go," he said and leaned over to carefully remove the first spike.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Four hours later..._

When the nurse came out again, the group had increased in size to seven people. Three were sleeping, but the three who had come in first were still awake as was an older man who was speaking with a British accent. He broke off suddenly when he noticed her approach.

"How is he?" he asked.

The smile was slightly easier this time. "We've managed to remove four of the spikes in his torso, and reinflate his lung. There are still twelve to go, but the hardest ones have been removed."

There was a sigh of relief from all four.

"It's gone midnight now, and the surgery will probably continue until six a.m. at least. You could go and get some sleep."

Two of them actually rolled their eyes at her and she smiled.

"All right. It was only a suggestion."

"We're not leaving until we know," the older, not British, man said.

"Very well." She shook his hand and walked back to the OR.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We've got a bleeder!"

"Clamp it! Clamp! Now!" Dr. Stevens ordered. "Give me suction." He took over at the spike in Tim's thigh. "Get me a unit of O neg. We'll be needing it."

Quickly, he managed to tie off the artery and suction out the rest of the blood. Still, it had been close.

"What happened?"

"It must have been caught, but it didn't show in _any_ of X-rays," Dr. Lee said. "I checked and double-checked them before I started."

"It's okay. We stopped it in good time." He let out a whoosh of air. That could have been it and they were doing so well. Ten of the loathsome teeth lay on the cart. The internal bleeding had been stopped, and now, the only full penetration was the one in his shoulder. Dr. Stevens was waiting for one of his colleagues to come and take a look. He was worried about nerve damage because that, if too serious, was often permanent. He looked toward the doors and saw her scrubbing in. He waved at her and she stopped her scrubbing for two seconds to wave back.

"What have we got?" Dr. Lipton asked and her eyes widened briefly when she saw the remains of the harrows. "What happened to this poor man?"

"Fell onto the harrows."

"Wow. Where's my nerve damage?"

"Right shoulder. X-rays are there."

Dr. Lipton examined the images of Tim's shoulder, the placement of the spike, its curvature, shape and any other information that might tell her what she was dealing with. "Looks bad."

"All of it's been bad," Dr. Stevens retorted.

"He's been hanging on?"

"Two bleeders and a near V-fib, but so far, yeah."

She whistled through her surgical mask. "I think you might be in danger of another bleeder here. It's awfully close to the brachial artery...and the brachial nerve. This one's going to tricky. I think we'll need to do it together."

"Want to help with the others then?"

"Sure. Where do you want me?"

"We still have the three partial penetrations in his right arm."

"Got it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Four hours later..._

Gibbs was dozing. Abby was asleep with her head in his lap. Ziva and Tony were both snoring sonorously next to each other on the couch. Michelle and Jimmy, leaning on each other, and Ducky, resting with his head on his hand, completed the sleeping seven. It had been hours since they'd had an update and even the best intentions couldn't keep them all awake.

The same nurse who had been their contact with the surgical team approached once more. Gibbs regretted Abby's choice of sleeping position because he couldn't even stand to talk to her. She smiled in understanding and came closer, keeping her voice low.

"There are two left and they have to set the bones in his leg. The last one will be tricky, but we have a nerve specialist and we're hoping for the best."

"Which one is last?" Gibbs whispered.

"The shoulder. It's in a bad spot. I probably won't get back out here until the surgery is over, but he's been doing well."

"He'll recover?"

"We won't know for certain until we're finished and even then, it will be a long recovery, but it's looking better."

"Thank you...uh...?"

"Lauren."

"Thank you, Lauren."

"No problem." She left as quietly as she'd come and Gibbs allowed a small exhale of relief. Obviously, it wasn't over yet, but that was better than he'd expected.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's bleeding!"

"Clamp!"

"Going into V-fib!"

"Get the crash cart!"

"Come on, Timothy! Don't do this! Not when we're so close!"

"Tara, you got it?"

"Clamped!"

"Charging!"

"Still in V-fib!"

The last spike was out...but it had been too close to the brachial artery and had torn it, in spite of Dr. Stevens' and Dr. Lipton's best efforts. The third bleeder had pushed Tim's already over-taxed body to the edge.

"Clear!"

"Nothing!"

"No!"


	5. Farmer in the Dell

**Chapter 5: Farmer in the Dell **

"Okay, once more!"

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

"He's back! Stabilize him." A weak, but steady, pulse beeped on the monitor. Dr. Stevens heaved a sigh of relief and rejoined Dr. Lipton in finishing up Tim's shoulder. "How long did we lose him, Darrin?"

Dr. Lee checked the time. "About thirty seconds."

"He could still make it without any adverse effects," Dr. Lipton said.

"No adverse effects?" Dr. Stevens asked. "We just pulled sixteen spikes from the man's body. Of course there will be adverse effects. Permanent ones? Who knows at this point. We can only hope. Let's just finish the debridement and close."

Alice saw the exhaustion on Dr. Stevens' face. It was past seven in the morning and they still had to set Tim's tibia. The surgery had already been going for more than twelve hours. She was worried about his ability to focus after so much time, but to her relief, so was he.

"Darrin, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, Dr. Stevens."

"Can you manage setting the tibia?"

"Definitely."

"Do it."

"Yes, sir." Dr. Lee began as soon as Tim's shoulder was closed and he was stabilized. Although he'd been nervous during the extraction of all the teeth, he knew how to set bones. Alice assisted while Dr. Stevens and Dr. Lipton double-checked all the other sites. It took another hour to finish everything up...but Tim was still alive at the end of it. Dr. Stevens himself chose to go and talk to the team.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Everyone was asleep. Even Gibbs had finally given in around five a.m. and was zonked out on the couch, Abby still sleeping on his lap. Dr. Stevens hesitated to wake them, but Tony opened his eyes at the sound of his approach.

"Is it done?" he asked. "Is McGee okay?"

His question roused everyone else and they all looked at Dr. Stevens with hopeful...and slightly worried expressions.

"Yes, we're done. Timothy survived the surgery."

"That doesn't sound as resoundingly successful as I might have hoped," Ducky commented, yawning.

Dr. Stevens couldn't suppress a yawn of his own. He'd been awake for far too long. "We managed to get all the spikes out and set his leg. He went into V-fib once, but we got him back. He'll be in recovery for a few hours and then we'll be watching him in ICU. Once he gets moved there, you can visit."

"Will he be okay?" Abby asked.

"Right now, we just have to wait. That much trauma...it could still have caused too much damage. But he _is_ alive and that is something to remember. One of the staff will come and get you when he's out of recovery."

"Thank you, Doctor..."

"Stevens."

"Dr. Stevens. Thank you so much," Abby said.

"Wait until he wakes up to thank me...actually, wait until _I_ wake up to thank me." Dr. Stevens gave them a tired smile and walked away.

The seven of them stared at each other. The waiting now was almost worse because now they knew that Tim was still alive...but they couldn't see him yet.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two hours later..._

_Click...whrrr..._

They crowded around Tim's bed. Technically, they weren't all supposed to be in there at the same time, but the ICU was mostly empty for the moment and there was space. Tim was a sight to behold. That was for sure. He was covered with wires. His leg was swathed in bandages...as was most of the rest of him. There were beeps and parps and other strange noises indicating that there was life in the bed, even if it didn't seem possible with Tim so white and so still. Abby, for the first time, understood what Gibbs had meant when he said it was bad. She didn't know what a harrow looked like, but she could picture spikes easily enough.

"He's going to be okay, right?" she said quietly.

"Yes," Gibbs said. "He'll be fine."

His words were empty and everyone knew it. Tim was still teetering on the edge. They were watching for signs of infection, for signs of his lung collapsing, for signs of more internal bleeding. Tim wasn't out of the woods by a long shot.

_Click...whrrrr..._

"Gibbs...he looks worse than you did," Abby whispered.

"And look how great he turned out, Abby," Tony said. "No worries!"

Gibbs reached over and slapped Tony.

"Thanks, Boss."

They lapsed into silence again and watched Tim breathe.

_Click...whrrrrr..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Five days later..._

_I see a bright light_, Tim thought. _Aren't we supposed to avoid bright lights? Doesn't that mean you're dead?_ Whatever it meant, it was getting closer and Tim simply didn't have the strength or even the interest to prevent the approach. It came up and smacked him in the face...causing his eyes to open.

Everything was really bright. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out what that might mean. _Maybe I really am dead...but shouldn't I...hurt less? It's really not fair if heaven feels this way...of course, maybe..._

"Probie!"

_Yep...I must be in hell. There's no way Tony would be allowed into heaven._

"Come on, McGeek! Speak! Let us hear the dulcet tones."

Tim blinked a few more times and the light faded to manageable levels...and people appeared, leaning over him with gleeful faces. He looked around at them all, his mind slowly running facial recognition programs, matching names and experiences to the faces he could see. No one looked unfamiliar. He knew them all. He tried to muster up something witty to say, but when he opened his mouth, only a single word came out.

"Hey..."

"Welcome back, Probie!" Tony seemed to be the mouthpiece of the group. No one else was doing anything but smiling. Tim wished they had picked someone else. Tony was being too loud and it was giving him a headache.

"Thanks..." Tim mumbled. He blinked a few more times and the rest of the room began to come into focus. _Hmm...a hospital. Why?_ "Wht..hppned?" He could tell by their expressions that the words coming out of his mouth were not the words he had thought in his head.

"What was that, McGee?"

"Happned...?"

"You were injured in the line of duty, McGee."

"Rly?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Tim felt very tired out by the exchange and his eyes closed again. He decided that figuring out whether or not he was dead could wait until the next time he woke up.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Tim woke up and noticed right away that the room was emptier than it had been the last time. There was no horde of smiling friends...in fact, there were no friends at all, just...

"Tim? Sam, he's awake!"

"Mom?" Tim asked in confusion.

Naomi leaned further into his view and Sam rolled up on the other side.

"Oh, Tim. You're awake."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice weak and soft, but clear.

"Making sure you're okay. Agent Gibbs called us last week and told us about what happened..."

"Wait...last _week_?"

"You've been asleep for awhile, Tim," Sam said, calmly from the other side. "Visiting that world, that 'wide realm of wild reality.'"

Tim racked his brain searching for the originator of the quote because he knew Sam was expecting it. Finally, he remembered. "Well, Dad," Tim said, softly, "I hate to disappoint Bachelard, but I didn't have any wild realities."

"Ah, he's dead anyway. What does he care?"

Tim laughed and then winced in pain.

"You all right?" Naomi asked quickly.

"I'm pretty sure, I've been better," Tim answered, his eyes closed as he waited for the pain to ease. The pain also reminded him of why he was here in the first place. "...but I'm pretty sure that I've also been worse."

"Oh, Tim," Naomi said, rubbing his arm very gently, expertly avoiding the bandages.

After the pain ebbed, Tim opened his eyes again, although he was feeling wiped out by his brief awakening. "It's been a week?"

"Yes. You were injured eight days ago and we've been here for a week."

"I woke up once before."

"Two days ago. We were really miffed that you chose the two hours we were gone to open your eyes," Sam said smiling.

"Sorry about that," Tim said and yawned.

"Can you stay awake, Tim? Your doctor wanted to check you over once you woke up."

Tim yawned again. "Sure." His eyes closed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

There were no images, only the remembered pain of having his body pierced over and over, the fear of dying, the panic at not being able to do anything about it.

"McGee, wake up!"

Tim's eyes opened again. It was dark...his breath was coming in painful gasps and he felt tears on his cheeks. After a few seconds, he realized that someone had woken him, that he wasn't still asleep. He closed his eyes once and took a deep calming breath, letting it out slowly in an effort to reclaim his reality.

"You all right, McGee?"

Tim opened his eyes again and turned his head. Gibbs was sitting beside his bed. Another motionless shape slowly turned into Abby...and Tony..._and_ Ziva...all of them sleeping on each other.

"You all right?" Gibbs repeated.

He nodded. "Just...a nightmare. Where are my parents?"

Gibbs chuckled softly. "You're a bit behind the times, McGee. It's been two days."

"What? I just closed my eyes for a second."

"Only if that second lasted for two days."

"Huh."

"It's nothing to worry about, McGee," Gibbs said, correctly interpreting Tim's expression. "Your doctor said that you'd be in and out for awhile. You've had a lot to recover from."

Tim swallowed. "Yeah...uh...what time is it?"

"Past 0200. Can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?"

"Yeah." Tim looked at the sleepers across from him again. "Boss..."

"Yes?"

"I'm not...dying, am I?"

"Not as far as I know. Why?"

"If I'm okay, then why are _they _here?" Tim asked, jerking his head slightly toward the trio.

"We've been worried about you, McGee. They wanted to be here when you woke up for good. You just took too long. You're not dying."

Tim nodded, marginally comforted.

"So, what happened up in the loft?"

"I took him by surprise and...did you catch him?"

"Yes. Go on."

"I told him to toss his gun to me. I was afraid that if he just dropped it, it would get lost in the hay. ...did you get them all?"

"Yes. Keep talking."

"He threw his gun in my face. I fired, but I'm pretty sure it must have gone wide because the next thing I knew, there was a roll of barbed wire slamming into my chest. It knocked the wind out of me."

"It also broke two of your ribs."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that would explain why it was hard to breathe. It hit me so hard...I nearly fell over...well, I _did_ fall over, but the fall lasted a lot longer than I thought it would. Then, I hit my head on something and..." Tim winced remembering. "...the next thing I knew I was..." He couldn't finish.

He also noticed that Gibbs didn't seem any too eager to talk about it either.

"Probie? You awake?" Tony asked, sleepily. He rubbed his eyes. "You _are_ awake!" He looked so genuinely happy about it that Tim couldn't bring himself to tease him. "Wake up, Abbs! Ziva! McGee's up!"

Abby and Ziva both sat up at the same time and Tim saw the approaching danger.

"Abby, no hugs right now, okay?"

Abby looked disappointed, but she ran over to the bed and grabbed his free...and uninjured...hand. "Tim! I'm so glad you're awake!"

"I'll take a rain check on the hug."

"I'll be sure to cash it in at the appropriate moment," Abby said with a cheesy grin. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "This will have to do for now."

Tim blushed and then looked over at Ziva who simply looked back at him without speaking. She seemed as quietly happy as Abby, but there was something more in her eyes that surprised him...but he remembered what she had done for him in the barn.

"It was pretty bad, wasn't it?" he asked.

"You were there, McGee. You should know better than any of us," she said and her voice wavered for just a moment.

"I didn't see much though. You guys must have seen it all."

Abby tightened her grip, but she didn't say anything. The mood in the room darkened. It wasn't that it was unhappy, just a lot more serious than it had been.

"I never want to see anything like that again, McGee," Tony said quietly.

"No, nor do I," Ziva agreed. "I will not forget it very soon."

"I don't think I will either," Tim said and tried to smile to lighten the mood again. It did not work. "Thanks for being there, guys."

"We could hardly be anywhere else," Ziva answered. "We would not have left you alone."

Tim pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah...thanks...what exactly...happened to me?"

"You fell on a set of harrows," Gibbs answered when no one else would.

"What are harrows?"

"They're farm machinery used to break up dirt and stuff," Tony said. "I looked it up."

"They have...spikes and stuff?"

"Yes, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim couldn't think of anything to say.

In the silence, Gibbs leaned over and hit the call button. "You think you can stay awake long enough for your doctor come and talk to you, McGee?"

"Sure. I'm not feeling very sleepy at the moment."

In moments, Dr. Stevens was there, checking Tim's pupils, asking him simple memory questions, checking his reactions to various stimuli. Tim was yawning by the end of it, but he passed with flying colors.

"Am I going to be okay?" Tim asked before Dr. Stevens left.

"Yes. Barring any unforseen hazards, which, I'll be honest, are always possible with extreme physical trauma as you have suffered, but barring that, you're recovering well. So far, there are no signs of infection. You're going to be our guest for awhile, though. So I hope you're comfortable." Dr. Stevens could see that Tim was still worried. He didn't blame him. "By the way, I think you've just topped the list of odd injuries in this place."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Quite an achievement, you know. This being a farming community, we get some odd stuff."

"Like what?"

"Well, let's see, we've had people in here who have nearly cut off limbs with chainsaws...on accident, of course. Once, there was a woman brought in who had knocked herself out with a post pounder. There was a man who was knocked off his horse by a bull...who subsequently hit the bull in the head with a mallet. A kid buried beneath a falling wood pile. The list goes on and on. I guess you probably won't be looking at farming as an alternate occupation."

Tim swallowed. "No. I can honestly say that I have no desire."

"After working on you, I don't either. Just rest, Timothy. You have a long road, but I'm confident that you'll get there."

Tim finally managed a smile. "Thanks, Dr. Stevens."

"You're welcome."


	6. E i e i oh

**Chapter 6: E-i-e-i-...oh...**

_Two weeks later..._

"Don't say it, Tony," Tim warned as he slowly eased himself into the wheelchair. His parents had gone home, but would be back for a visit that weekend. Sarah had promised to come over that night to stay with him. Tony had offered to help Tim get back to his apartment in one piece...since...as he had already noted...more than once, Tim was holier than Swiss cheese and couldn't drive himself.

"Say what?" Tony asked, his face a picture of innocence.

"Just don't." Tim was glad that Tony had gotten back his warped sense of humor, but it was still grating in large amounts. "I don't want to hear it."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Probie."

"Good. I'm not going to educate you either."

"I would think that after..."

"Stop!" Tim could see it coming. He knew he couldn't put it off forever, but he'd really rather keep Tony from saying it if he could.

"...your _harrowing_ experience, you'd enjoy some little jokes."

Tim groaned and put his head in his hand. "I knew it. I knew you would say it from the moment Gibbs told me what I landed on."

"Ziva asked about it, first," Tony said, grinning.

"I'm sure she did," Tim answered and then winced as Tony hit a bump.

"You all right?"

"Yes, Tony. I'm fine. I have sixteen holes in my body, actually twenty-two if you count each end of the six that went all the way through separately. I have a broken leg and a busted up shoulder. I'm perfect. I've been aerated."

"Well...I think someone's in a bad mood."

"Please, if you're going to give me a ride, just get me there fast so that I can take my medication and drop off into a painless sleep."

The chair slowed to a halt. "Does it hurt that bad, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim felt his frustration and annoyance melt away. "Yeah. It does."

The chair began to move again, much more gradually than it had before. "You don't have to leave yet, you know."

"Yes, I do. I'm going stir crazy in here. At least if I'm at home, I can lay on my bed and watch television. Abby got a laptop for me so I can lay in bed and still do work."

"Work?"

"I'm bored, Tony...but I can't really sit up for very long. Stupid harrows."

"So you're going to work when you have all this free time?"

"Which I'll be spending mostly confined to my bed. This isn't a vacation, Tony."

The chair slowed to a stop again and this time Tony walked around to the front of the chair. "McGee, you don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to play tough."

Tim looked at Tony, tears in his eyes. "I'm not, Tony. It hurts...a lot. I just want to go home."

Tony put his hand on Tim's uninjured shoulder...just for a moment and then continued pushing the chair. "Then, I'll get you there."

Tim blinked quickly. "Thanks."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why did I pick a place without an elevator...or a ramp?" Tim asked, looking dismally at the stairs in front of him.

"You weren't planning ahead. Next time, you'll know to avoid walkups in case of serious bodily injury," Tony said. "Here, lean on me. I'll help you up the stairs."

Tim took a deep breath and leaned heavily on Tony, still wincing, but he made it up. Tony helped him take his medication. He even, without asking, helped Tim get settled in his bed. Tim lay gratefully on his soft bed and closed his eyes in relief. Tony was strongly reminded of his last view of Tim from above. Tim opened his eyes.

"Tony..."

"What?" Tony asked. To cover his momentary lapse, he said, "I'm not going to fluff your pillow. There are limits to my kindness."

Tim didn't smile. "What did I look like?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. On the harrows. What did I look like? I know how it felt." Tim shuddered. "I know that, but I don't know how I looked."

"Do we really need to talk about this, Probie?"

"Yes."

Tony flicked his gaze to the television. Tim did not shift his own gaze at all.

"You looked...like...something out of a horror movie, McGee...only less blood..." He laughed a little, but it was hollow. "...and more pain. I've never seen anything like it, not when the person is still alive. I never want to again...but I don't think I'll forget seeing you, looking up at me, asking for help. I've never heard anyone scream like that, either. Again, I don't want to. Happy?"

"Yes."

Tony looked back at Tim. "Why?"

"Because...I know I wasn't alone...I know that you guys were there...and now I know that you respect me enough not to sugarcoat what happened," Tim smiled. "Tony, I've never _felt_ anything like that. I thought I was dying. I really thought that I must be on my way out, the pain was so bad. What I'm feeling now is bad, but it's so much better than that time. I couldn't even tell you how long it was. Every second felt like a year...but it's better now...and it will keep getting better. So...yes, I am happy. Thanks for the ride."

"Probie, I will never understand how your mind works."

"The feeling is mutual," Tim said and then yawned widely. "My powerful medication is working. 'Night, Tony."

"It's two in the afternoon."

"Night to me," Tim said and yawned again.

"Do you need me to stay?"

"No. Sarah will be by. Thanks though," Tim mumbled and let his eyes close.

Tony watched Tim for a few minutes after he dropped off to sleep. "Sleep tight, Probie."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

"Tony, I told you that I don't need a ride. I can drive."

"With your leg still broken and your arm in a sling? I don't think so, Probie."

"He is right, McGee. That would pose significant dangers to the other drivers on the road," Ziva said.

"You're one to talk," Tim grumbled. He limped past them into the bathroom and pulled off his shirt. There were still bandages covering a few of his holes, but the others were closed with lovely black stitches. He turned around to get a look at the back. The stitches would come out soon, thank goodness, but he'd be feeling the pain for a while after that. Right now, though, with the painkillers just kicking in, he felt pretty good. As the day progressed, he knew it wouldn't last, but that was okay. He pulled on his shirt, covering the evidence of his battle with the harrows and walked back out into the living room.

"Okay, let's go, then."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim let his mind wander as they rode to NCIS. He didn't protest when Tony let him off right at the doors and then drove off to park himself.

"McGee, are you feeling all right?"

Tim shook himself out of his navel-gazing. "Yeah, I'm okay. For now." He smiled.

Tony came up and just managed to stop himself from clapping Tim on the shoulder. "Let's get going. We'll be late, Probie."

"Right, Tony." Tim followed Tony and Ziva into the elevator and wondered what he'd be doing today. It was his first day back, but he was obviously not ready to go out into the field. He didn't even notice Tony and Ziva giving each other mischievous looks. Tim got off the elevator and limped toward his desk without really looking at it. Then...suddenly he stopped. He couldn't decide whether he should laugh, cry or scream. His desk had been turned into a farm, complete with farm animals, hay and a large banner that read _Welcome back, Farmer Tim!_

Tim looked back at Tony and Ziva. "Should I be saying thanks?"

"Of course! You can start your own farm!"

"No, thank you. Farms and I do not get along," Tim said. "And my desk is a mess."

"Don't worry. It'll clean up. It's not like the animals are real," Tony said.

Tim finally started to laugh. "Thanks, Tony. Thanks, Ziva. My life is complete." He limped over and sat down in his own personal barnyard. For the rest of the day, Tim worked on a farm and to his annoyance, he got "Old MacDonald" in his head and found himself singing it over and over again. By the end of the day, he was getting tired and the setting wasn't quite so amusing. Still, he appreciated their efforts.

"How's your day been, Tim?"

Tim looked up and there was Abby, dressed in overalls.

"Did I miss the memo that we're getting into agriculture at NCIS?"

Abby grinned. "You must have. Everyone else knows about it."

Tim chuckled.

"Can I cash in my raincheck yet?"

"Not at full strength, but you could get a down payment."

"Do I get to collect interest?"

Tim shrugged slightly. "Sure. I'm okay with that."

Abby's grin got wider and she leaned down to give Tim a long...but _gentle_ hug. "I'm glad you're getting better."

"Me, too. Believe me."

"I do. You heading out soon?"

"Yeah. I don't have the stamina for late nights yet. You?"

"No. I have a few more tests to run."

"Have a good one, then."

"You, too." Abby let him go and walked back to the elevator. After she was gone, Tim leaned back and sighed. It was good to be at work again, but he was _tired_ and _aching_.

"McGee, why are you still here?" Gibbs asked.

"Just figuring out how I'm going to get home. Tony and Ziva still aren't back and they gave me a ride."

"Give me a minute. I'll give you a lift."

"Oh, you don't have to, Boss."

"I know that, McGee," Gibbs said wryly. He checked his computer and then grabbed his keys. "Let's go."

"Thanks, Boss." Tim followed him out, happy to be heading home, but feeling a little awkward.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Thanks, Boss," Tim said as they reached his apartment.

"You already said that, McGee."

"No, I mean, thanks for...I don't know...protecting me?"

"What?"

"At the barn. When you covered my eyes. Thanks...and for being there at the beginning. I needed it." Tim gulped and turned to open the door.

"You're welcome, McGee. Just don't do that again."

"I don't plan on it, Boss," Tim said, smiling a little.

"I'm...glad you're all right."

Tim nodded.

"Oh...and McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Welcome back."

Tim grinned and got out of the car. "Thanks, Boss." He watched Gibbs drive away and then limped up the steps to his apartment. Despite how tired he was now...it had been a good day.

FINIS!


End file.
